


Just a Trinket

by InnerSpectrum



Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge, Implied/Referenced Torture, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Sherlock is trying to hold on to that last string of hope...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138172
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	Just a Trinket

**Author's Note:**

> February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge from ohlooktheresabee. Prompt: Trinket

_It was just a trinket…_

_This is what he tells himself._

~~~~~~ 

Once things were set in motion that morning, things had moved fast, too fast. The next thing he knew he had jumped from the roof of St. Bart’s and was quickly whisked away. Naturally, Baker Street was off limits to him. He had spent the last two days in London in Mycroft’s townhouse and time had come to get out of London and head to his first mission. It was literally a last-minute thought that came to him, but once it came it was relentless. He was not leaving London without it and bade his brother send one of his people for it. He had to have it with him.

~~~~~~ 

_It was small, just a trinket._

_This is what he tells himself ignoring the criminal that curses him._

~~~~~~ 

“Here it is...” Anthea held it out.

Mycroft took it from her hand before she could give it to Sherlock.

“Really Brother Mine?” Mycroft had looked at it sadly.

Sherlock ignored how that same sad look brushed over him as he took it from him.

“Really,” was all had to say on the matter, a weight lifted once he had it in hand.

From the way his brother had looked at it, Sherlock knew Mycroft understood why he insisted, there was no point to it further.

~~~~~~ 

_It was small, just a trinket._

_This is what he tells himself when the next series of blows land and he laughs._

~~~~~~ 

It once fell out of his pocket in a thick thorny brush. His hands were a series of cuts and scratches that rendered them nearly useless until the swelling went down after he retrieved it. He would not leave it.

He could not.

He and it have crossed continents, countries and several countries. It became his good luck charm, his talisman. As long as he had it, he was good. His brother had met him overseas between missions at one point. He was almost to the door to leave for the airport when Sherlock realized he had been pickpocketed of it. Mycroft got on his plane with a black eye for his trouble and never tried to separate it from him again.

~~~~~~ 

_It was small, seemingly unobtrusive, just a trinket._

_This is what he tells himself as he grits his teeth in pain._

~~~~~~ 

Two years he had it. A trinket that once belong to John, that he had taken because it reminded him of the man. The good time they had for a few beautiful days. If he could not have the man with him, he could have the thing that reminded him most of John to get him through. For he knew the day he lost Grecian John was the day he lost it all.

Grecian John. Its tinkling sound that reminded him of John’s giggle was gone. Its blue cord frayed and threadbare. It was a little more damaged, but it was still with him.

~~~~~~ 

_It was small, seemingly unobtrusive, until you looked at it carefully. Just a trinket._

_This is what he tells himself and shakes his much too long hair from his sweaty face._

~~~~~~ 

This pseudo-effigy of John Watson that has protected his sanity.

Until the threadbare cord broke and it slipped from its hidden place to the ground…

… and crushed into tiny pieces under a boot whose owner never of its existence value.

~~~~~~ 

_It was small, seemingly unobtrusive, until you looked at it carefully. Just a trinket. A stupid little bell._

_This is what he tells himself as he cries._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is the bell from [**Grecian John** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649228)


End file.
